Denial
by emo barbie
Summary: He's not addicted, he's not...and he's not in denial either.


Title: **Denial**

Author: **Emo Barbie**

Rating: **T**

Summary: **He's not addicted, he's not...and he's not in denial either.**

Disclaimer: **House would like to remind you that Emo Barbie owns none of the characters, never had and never will. Nor will pigs fly, rainbows produce gold, fairy tales become real or a fat man fall down that invisible chimney you thinks in your wall carrying a ninth demension bag that holds billions of little children's toys inside. Anyways enjoy. **

Extra: **I found this in my {NEED TO BE UPLOADED!} Folder XD, I think it was something that had hit me, but I had never taken the time out to actually check it over or post it because I felt it was a little too...Ooc...ya know, a little too...something Wilson would never do. But here I am, after opening up this little document, and rereading it, FINALLY deciding that I should upload it anyways. So please review, tell me what you think, it makes me happy if you review, even if you hated this story, I already realize it's not that grand XD.**

**Also, I'm not a smoker, so I'm not an expert at how long a high lasts, and how often an addict smokes, so don't flame me if I get this all wrong.**

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**Denial**

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Wilson was not an addict, so maybe he had smoked a few while rolling for a patient, but he wasn't addicted. Just because he found himself buying his own now, also didn't mean he was an addict, it was for...special occasions, times when he _really_ needed it. So even when he ran out before the month was over, he still didn't label himself as an addict, or when his next stash only lasted three weeks, not even when his stash disappeared under two, did he label himself as an addict. No. He simply got more, he used it within a week, and soon found himself buying more that same night. And still the label of addict didn't suit him. No, it wasn't like he relied on it or anything...

He got into the car, and before even starting it, he sat in the cold, rolling the blunt before lighting it up. And only after he had finished with it did he finally start the car. It was an agonizing thirty minute drive, it seemed the effects only lasted twenty minutes, and he was dying to lit up another one, right then and right now. But at the moment he was on the highway, and though he was shaking, which he really was sure was simply from the cold, yeah that's it, he was cold. He refused to pull over, and...okay he pulled over. So what, it wouldn't hurt. He rolled another, and smoked it, started the car and headed home. He was able to make it home and plopped down onto the couch letting out a sigh as he stared up at the ceiling. He wasn't an addict, no House was an addict, and Wilson was the farthest thing from House, no Wilson was just a...conman user...a frequent smoker...that was all...not an addict. He glanced at the clock, it came in and out of focus, but finally he was able to make out 11:30 on the clock. Man was he tired...but he knew it wouldn't help to just lay there. No he needed to get up and get to his bed, however he really couldn't move he was just....tired.

"Wilson...WILSON!" Wilson opened one groggy eye to stare up at House. "What the hell are you doing in my house." He glared down at the other.

"What are you talking about? This is my-" Wilson sat up and looked around, House catching sight of the other, not to mention the smell that was radiating from the other. "Are you high?" House made a face.

"No." Wilson pished, as he rolled his eyes. "What would give you that idea." He huffed.

"Oh, I don't know." House narrowed his eyes on the other, before reaching down, holding his breath as the stench of the other hit him full force. He graped the other, reaching into the pockets of Wilson's jacket until he came out with the crap.

"It's for a patient." Wilson muttered.

"Well, then I'm sure the patient would be happy to hear that you smoked all his dope."

"I didn't smoke all the-" Wilson turned to look at the contents, he had just bought it last night yet. "It's gone." Wilson stared at it bewildered. "House, you can't just go and smoke-"

"Wilson." House glared at him. "I may drink, and I may pop pills..." He tossed the empty bag at the oncologist. "But I don't smoke."

Wilson stared at the other..but...he wasn't an addict...

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He didn't even belong in there, he didn't_ have_ a problem, he didn't _need_ rehab, he was perfectly normal. "Would you like to share, Wilson?" The voice of the therapist asked.

"Pass." Wilson muttered, it had been like that ever since he got there, nothing but circles of people talking about their problems, about their addictions, but Wilson didn't have an addiction! He never did! He didn't belong in here, he was perfectly fine! And so when it ended he went off to his room, his plain, plain room.

"James..." Wilson looked up to see House, staring down at him.

"Why do you bother coming here every day?" Wilson muttered, glaring at the ground. "I don't belong in here, I don't have an of these issues you insist I have." He muttered, twitling his thumbs together. House sighed and took a seat next to the other, his cane scraping the cement floor.

"James..."

"Stop that." Wilson turned his glare at the other. "I don't need your lectures, or your, annoying logics, I don't need them!"

House looked hurt for a moment before standing up. "Yeah...I guess you don't." He muttered, limping over to the doorway. "See you tomorrow."

House waited for a response, he always did, but Wilson never did give him one, why should he? House was the one who had put him in here, told him he needed it. Yeah the addict telling him he needed rehab, the addict telling _him, he needed_ help_. _He hated the older doctor for it, and hated the fact that he visited all the time, as it was his way of saying sorry, or something, but he wasn't...never was...and never will be an addict...

"Would you like to share, Wilson?"

"Pass." Wilson muttered again.

"Are you sure?" The therapist asked, and Wilson turned a glare on her. Of course he was sure, he didn't belong in here, why should he share with these...weirdo's?

"Come on James, give it a shot." One of the males, a alcoholic and druggie from off the streets encouraged him.

"Yeah, come on." A few others chimed in.

Wilson sighed and sat forward. "Fine." He huffed as if that would make the other's shut up. "My name...is James Wilson, I'm an oncologist, and do not belong here." He sat back, and everything fell silent, he expected the therapist to go on, to be okay with that, but unfortunately she wasn't.

"Why do you think that?" She asked.

"Excuse me?" Wilson stared at her.

"Why don't you think you belong here?"

"Why?" Wilson let out a snort. "I have no problem! So, I smoked a bit, here and there, so maybe I began to get a little more into it, smoking it once a week, no more though..." Wilson suddenly fell silent as he stared at the ground. "Well...maybe a little more...once a week, turned to every other day, every other day turned to every day....then to every hour..." Wilson lowered his head in shame cupping his head into his hands. "...and every hour turned....." He paused and everything was once again silent.

The therapist on the other hand gave a smile as she allowed them all to leave.

"Hey..." Wilson looked up to see House staring at him from the doorway. "How are you doing?"

"I can't do it Greg..." House looked puzzled for a moment as he came to sit next to the other like he always did.

"What can't you do?"

"I can't do it...I never really realized I was...I was....so...."

"Stubborn?" House let out a chuckle.

"Addicted..." House watched as Wilson lowered his head into his hands, a sob escaping the younger doctor before House took the notion to stand. Okay, so he wasn't that mean, he wasn't just gonna leave the oncologist, he wasn't that....

House left Wilson alone to cry.

Yeah, he was that heartless, I guess just another thing that Wilson always denied...

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**This is actually quite an old fic that I never had the time to actually publish, so it's not as good as some of the one's I do now. Mine are now more detailed and have longer paragraphs...but hey, I didn't want to edit to much, I think it's better to leave old work as it is...most of the time...ya know. Anyways Reviews! **


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